


I'll Love You (As Misfortune Loves Orphans)

by Aiza_60



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Poetry, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Minor Angst, One Shot, Quote Challenge, Self Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiza_60/pseuds/Aiza_60
Summary: Jason gets hurt in the field and is bleeding out alone in an alley. Luckily, Batman can't seem to stop being a hero.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 188





	I'll Love You (As Misfortune Loves Orphans)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a quote by Lemony Snicket: "I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong..." It was too fitting NOT to use

The Gotham wind howled at the rooftops. Away from the constant noise of traffic, it almost sounded like the cry of a mourning woman. Gotham was mourning, but for what? the loss of her innocence, or perhaps what her children had done to her. The wind was harsh on those autumn nights and it was cold and unforgiving. Gotham’s children knew that chill better than they had known full stomachs and warm bones. It was cold, it certainly was at the heights of those lonely rooftops, and  _ yet _ – yet all Jason felt was  _ heat _ . 

It built inside of him like a roaring furnace, fuelling him. Not to fight a crusade for Gotham. Jason lived and breathed Gotham, and he knew that her saviour was not one man fighting symptoms of a virus that had long since taken root. He wasn’t that man. God, no. 

He was not as frivolous as that. He was the protector of those not able to protect themselves from the symptoms of Gotham’s disease. He was _ rage _ . It warmed him,  _ burned _ him as he grappled from building to building. He was immune to Gotham’s icy howls, if only for tonight. 

Tonight, he was taking down one of Gotham’s drug trafficking rings. Well, taking out. He wasn’t going to kill anyone– he had obliged to the Bat’s rules to play nice– but he had not consented to no explosions. That would thoroughly set back their progress and give the Red Hood some time to  _ convince  _ them to play by  _ his  _ rules. 

Jason dropped to the ground silently, slipping past perimeter guards. There weren’t as many as usual tonight, so he had less to worry about if things went south. The few guards that had noticed him were quieted with the butt of his gun to their heads. He made his way around the compound, planting explosives as he went. After planting the last one, he decided to make himself known to give the guards some chance of coming out of that compound alive. If they didn’t, well, collateral damage. 

“Awful weather we’re having, am I right?” he called, swinging into the guards’ line of sight. The noticed him immediately, shouting at each other to call for backup. He let them chase him, let them get too close before he vaulted away again. It was almost a game, and hey, if he was saving these poor dolts while doing it, why couldn’t it be? His job was done, and he figured that toying with some goons once in a while wasn’t a crime. “I noticed you’ve got some heating in this place. How much does it cost at this end of the city?” 

His response came in the form of a bullet grazing his shoulder. Jason growled. Fine. He’ll be serious and leave. They had more than enough time by now. “I hope you fools like the present I left ‘ya.” He pointed his grapple at the nearest rooftop and sailed away, gunfire peppering his departure. 

Then, three things happened at once. Or rather, in such close proximity to each other that it seemed like it. One: Jason activated the detonator. Two: A bullet ripped through his abdomen– a lucky shot. Three: He fell. The ground raced to meet him, and he met it, with a sickening  _ thud _ . 

Now a different fire ran through him, alongside the rage that previously burned. This was blinding and invited dark spots to dance in his vision. It was consuming, and there was nothing other than its presence. It was agony, and it was deafening as it screamed at him. 

Jason cursed under his breath. The goons had gotten lucky. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be following him.  He grunted, pushing himself against the alley wall. That brought a whole new array of colours into is vision. He bit out more curses through the pain.

Once situated as comfortably as possible in his situation against the alley wall, he sucked in some air. He needed to assess his injuries and work from there. That’s what B always said to do. The most pressing matter was his side. His hands were sticky with blood from pressing the wound, but it didn’t help much. The liquid still spilled onto the floor of the alleyway, creating a growing puddle. That definitely was not good. His vision still was hazy, but he suspected it was from blood loss rather than a concussion. He tried moving his legs, only to let out a fresh string of curses.  _ Ow _ , that was  _ not _ happening.  _ Yeah _ , not a good idea. His best guess was that his left leg was most likely broken. 

He needed to get medical help. His bike– which was parked several blocks away– was out of the question. No way could he use a grappling hook with so much blood loss. He really wished he’d finished installing that comm unit in his helmet– then he could maybe call someone for help. But that wasn’t an option. He was stuck in an alleyway, with a broken leg, alone and bleeding out. Just  _ great _ . 

His eyes flitted up to the sky. It was clear and cloudless, not that you would be able to make out any stars in Gotham’s polluted air. But the  _ moon _ . The moon was bright against that dark drapery of night, and its slivery glow cast onto Jason’s injured body. It didn’t help his headache. He tried angling his face away from it only to hiss in pain. 

Jason groaned. Well, he couldn’t just sit here and go quietly. He steeled himself and gripped the wall in an attempt to stand up. It was dizzying and hurt like hell, but he grit his teeth and stood. _ Good _ , he thought.  _ Now, one step at a time _ . One, two. One, two. One– he fell to the ground with a crashing thud. 

_ Well, isn’t this a _ fun _ day, _ he grumbled. He regrettably (because  _ ow _ ) crawled back to the wall. He needed to get someone’s attention. Hell, he was desperate at this point. Superman would even do. Was he off-planet? It was worth a try. He tried speaking but was cut off by a bout of coughing. That did not make his side any happier. He opened the front of his helmet the let himself breathe. Sucking in all the breath his lungs could hold, he yelled. “Superman!” 

Jason waited. Nothing.  _ Wonderful _ . He pressed his head against the cold concrete of the alley wall, trying to clear his head. If only he weren’t so  _ tired. Two minutes, _ he promised himself. Two minutes to rest before he tried again. 

He closed his eyes. Of course, he knew that if he drifted off completely, he may not wake up. If that were to happen, Jason wondered who would be tasked with writing his second obituary. He’d better be getting a new headstone for what it’s worth as well. 

His train of thought came crashing to a stop when he heard a familiar low rumble.  _ An engine _ , he realized.  _ Aw hell _ . Those goons might’ve finally tracked him down. He cracked an eyelid open to catch a glimpse of the new visitor. He didn’t see anyone. Wait, no– he craned his neck, finally sighting the vehicle. 

The Batmobile. He never thought he’d be so happy to smell its nasty fumes. B must have used the rockets on the back. Speaking of which, where was the Dark Knight?

He opened his other eye to find Batman. Jason let out a breathy chuckle. “Hey, B-man.”  _ God _ , talking hurt. 

Batman grunted. “Let’s get you in the car, Jay-lad.” 

With hissing and cursing thought would have cost him fifty bucks in Alfred’s swear jar, the two made it to the car. “‘M gonna bleed all over your seats, B,” Jason warned, if not a little weakly. Batman ignored him. He braced himself as the car pulled onto the main streets, rocketing towards the Cave. 

_______________

Jason must have passed out at some point because he woke up in the damp air of the Cave. The cot he lay on was all too familiar from his Robin days, but he was secretly a little grateful that he didn’t have to take care of himself. Thankfully, his side had been cleaned and bandaged and his leg set while he was out. He figured that Bruce must have slipped some sedatives into the IV that stood beside him. That would explain why his head felt so light, and his eyes felt so heavy. He gave into its lulling numbness and slept. 

Bruce was with him the next time he awoke. He looked like he’d been sitting there a long time, which was silly. Bruce clearly had better things to do. 

“How are you feeling, Jay?” 

He shrugged or tried to, rather. Either way, Bruce got the message. “How’d you find me?” he croaked. 

“I saw the explosion. Heard you a few minutes later.” 

“How’d you know it was me?”

Bruce stopped. “Jason, I’d know your voice anywhere,” he said, carding his fingers through Jason’s hair. 

Jason couldn’t find the incentive to berate him for the action. Silence filled the cave once again as Jason thought. Was the Cave always this gaping? “Why’d you come?” he finally asked. His voice was as quiet as the dark crevices of the Cave. 

“What are you talking about?” Bruce countered, looking bewildered. “Why wouldn’t I come? You’re my son, Jay.” 

“But the whole thing after… after I came back… and with Tim…” He studied the wrinkled fabric of the blanket that covered him, trying to hold back the tears that threatened his vision. “I tried to kill all of you, Bruce. How could… how could you want me back?” His final words came tumbling out.

“Oh, Jason…” Bruce murmured, enveloping the boy in his arms. They might have had their differences, but when all was said and done, at the end of the day, Jason was his son. “ You know, there’s this quote Dick likes to say,” he started. He cleared his throat dramatically and continued in his best impression of what had to be Stitch. “ ‘Ohana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.’” 

Jason groaned into Bruce’s shirt. “You’re the worst.” 

Bruce chuckled, hugging Jason’s head closer. “I mean it, Jay. No matter what happens, I’m not going to stop loving or worrying over you.” 

“It’s not me you should be worried about B,” Jason said, suddenly mischievous. “I think I might call Disney to sue you for copyright violations.” 

“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” Bruce feigned a look of betrayal.”Because I  _ can _ and  _ will _ buy Disney if that’s the case.” 

Jason flopped back onto the cot, a grin shining through the tears that still lingered. “Nah. On grounds of loving you and all that.”

“Get some rest, Jay,” Bruce said, patting his son’s shoulder. “You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate if you stayed here for a while, at least until you heal up.”

The boy considered it. Then he remembered: Alfred’s cooking his whole stay?  _ Hell yes _ . “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

Bruce smiled. Misfortune might love his children, but he loved them more. 


End file.
